


I Cannot Speak For A Day From Now

by ashilrak



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: George knew as soon as Hamilton walked in, could smell it in the air and feel it in his bones. Hamilton was his. He stiffened in his chair and set the quill into its well. He pressed his hands flat against the table with more force with each step that Hamilton took forward. George took in a deep breath, tasting the sweet scent on his tongue.It was rare he saw someone and felt such need, but already he was wondering what it’d be like to have his senses overrun with the boy.





	I Cannot Speak For A Day From Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



George knew as soon as Hamilton walked in, could smell it in the air and feel it in his bones. Hamilton was _his_. He stiffened in his chair and set the quill into its well. He pressed his hands flat against the table with more force with each step that Hamilton took forward. George took in a deep breath, tasting the sweet scent on his tongue.

It was rare he saw someone and felt such need, but already he was wondering what it’d be like to have his senses overrun with the boy.

Hamilton paused in front of him, falling into attention. George took him in, looking from the top of Hamilton’s head to the bottom of his shoes. Hair pulled back into a neat queue, eyes bright, dark circles, plump lips, thin frame, and well-formed legs. Hamilton radiated an aura. He had power, and he was ready to use it any moment. George could tell from the way it flickered in the air, sparking. Curious, he spread his own out, smiling when he heard Hamilton inhale a sharp breath. Hamilton didn’t flinch. He was controlled, used to being poked and prodded at. Something that felt like anger burned in George’s chest at the thought of anyone else trying to force a reaction out.

George looked back up to Hamilton’s face. The boy was growing impatient, he could see in the glint of Hamilton’s eye. He smiled, a small turn of his lip, and Hamilton’s eyes widened the smallest bit at the unexpected expression.

George inhaled another deep breath, sighing as he took in the taste and scent of Hamilton. It was perfect, delicious - a mix of gunpowder and smoke and spice.

“Colonel Hamilton,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Your Excellency, you asked to see me.” Hamilton looked straight at him, clueless to the images running through his mind.

George nodded, all thoughts of the original reason Hamilton was there leaving him. Hamilton’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. Either the boy was too bound up in his own nervousness and curiosity to have figured it out, or he knew just what he was doing.

“The original reason I called you here,” George said. “Was to get you on my staff-”

“Sir!” Hamilton interrupted, stepping closer, eyes narrowed.

George held up a hand and continued, “and while that is to be addressed at a later time, that is not what I’d like to discuss with you at the moment.”

He kept himself calm as he watched the suspicion cross Hamilton’s face. There was no guide on how to do this, but George knew that he wanted the boy now and that for this once, the work could wait.

Hamilton frowned, but remained silent - fighting to do so, George was certain.

“You’re like me,” George said, leaning back in his chair and resting his hand on the arms of it. “I can smell it.”

George’s parents had never given him a name for what they were - the magic, increased senses, the bloodlust. He just knew that it was all he had ever known, and that it was best to keep it hidden. Humans were scared of things that were More.

Hamilton’s eyes widened. “Like you…”

George nodded. “Yes.” 

Hamilton shook his head and took a step backward. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” George said. “I don’t know what to call it, but it’s something. There’s magic in us. Strength.”

George lifted his hand and extended it, offering it palms up to Hamilton, pooling the smallest bit of magic. It was an invitation. Hamilton could accept it - even if the boy really didn’t know, he’d realize it with a warmth-filled touch versus the prodding he had done moments before - or he could turn around and leave, risking his place in the army.

Hamilton was known to be a smart man, and soon a small hand was resting over George’s, still not touching.

“Sir,” Hamilton said. “I’ve never told anyone before, about this.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” George pooled more magic. “I knew.”

Hamilton raised a brow. “Do you know anything else?” It was a challenge. One that George intended on taking.

“You’ll have to wait and find out for yourself.”

Another moment passed, Hamilton’s hand still hovering over his, before - finally - Hamilton’s lowered into his. George curled their fingers together, taking in how small Hamilton’s hand looked in his own, feeling satisfaction spread through him as their magic accepted one another. _His,_ and this was the confirmation.

Hamilton’s gasp was a beautiful sound that had George wanting to hear him make it again.

“Sir, what is that?”

He brought Hamilton’s hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to delicate fingers. “Guess,” he whispered, looking into Hamilton’s eyes.

“The stories aren’t supposed to be real,” Hamilton said. “My mother told me they weren’t real. I’m not supposed to be real, I’m not really...I just have strange magic. Stories of magic are much more common, but this? I’m not supposed to have...”

George chuckled. “I didn’t believe them either, and yet here you are, just for me.”

Hamilton swallowed. “I’m yours?” Hamilton asked, voice a whisper.

“Yes.” George pressed another kiss to the back of Hamilton’s hand. “If you’ll have me, of course.” Magic sparked under his lips. Curious, George sent a sharper push toward Hamilton, more powerful, intense, forceful. Hamilton froze in front of him. A sharp intake of breath and darkening eyes told George everything he needed to know.

Not letting go of Hamilton’s hand, he stood up and walked around the desk.

Hamilton stood straighter now with so little distance between them. He licked his lips, and George’s eyes dropped to follow the motion, Hamilton’s mouth begging him to lean down and _bite_.

There was an undeniable tension between them, growing with every second. George’s hand clenched into a fist at his side as he fought to urge to reach up and take down Hamilton’s hair or wrap and arm around the boy and bring him in close. They were primal desires - to take, to claim - but George wanted. He remained still, not moving, using his well-practiced control. Hamilton would initiate this.

He looked back to Hamilton’s eyes, still dark, no hint of fear showing. The desire there instead had George’s chest filling with a sort of pride, his mind flooding his everything he wanted to do to Hamilton, his cock stiffening against his thigh.

George knew the stories said that meeting your one - mate for a more animalistic term, intended used by those with romantic delusions of fate -  was an overwhelming experience, that it made all memory of manner and order leave as you were taken over by the need to learn the other. George had thought he knew that mates were nothing more than people well-suited for each other, magic that happened to work well together. But those beliefs left his mind when Hamilton had entered his tent. The boy was _his_.

Hamilton took a step closer, pressing against him, the small distance that was between them now gone. A hand went to his chest and Hamilton looked up at him, lower lip caught between teeth. Hamilton took in a deep breath and said, “I cannot speak for a day from now, but in this moment, I am yours and only yours and am currently burning with some sort of need that I have the feeling only you can fulfill.”

George was willing to accept a promise of now, would figure out tomorrow when the day came. Hamilton was _his_ , and the boy would know it, there’d be no thought of leaving. But for now? George wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist and brought him even closer, making obvious his desire pressed to the boy’s abdomen.

He lowered his head, breath ghosting over Hamilton’s spit-slick lips, and waited.

Hamilton’s hand tightened around a fistful of fabric of George’s jacket and the boy leaned up and pressed their lips together. There was something about Hamilton that was different from anyone else he had kissed before. George let go of Hamilton’s hand and tangled it in his hair, pulling it loose from its queue. Hamilton groaned into his mouth, and he bit down on Hamilton’s lip as he pulled away.

There was a flush on Hamilton’s cheeks and a gleam in his eye. “Sir-”

“Hamilton.”

The flush deepened. “Alexander.”

George smiled, bringing his hand from Alexander’s hair to trace the side of his face and said, “Alexander it is then.”

Alexander pulled on his jacket. “Get this off.”

George let Alexander push the offending fabric off his shoulders, and went to work on Alexander’s own uniform, each layer peeled away meant he was closer to the smooth skin lying beneath. He felt his breath catch in his throat when Alexander’s collar fell open, revealing smooth expanse of the boy’s neck. He leaned down and started to press his lips to the sensitive skin, reaching up and pulling Alexander’s head to the side.

“Oh,” Alexander gasped, hands fisted in the front of his shirt. “Sir-”

“What sort of name do you call yourself?” George asked, voice muffled. Alexander’s scent was filling his nose and his mouth was watering.

“What do you mean?”

George turned them around and backed Alexander against his desk, leaning forward until Alexander was lying on his back. He rolled his hips forward, and Alexander groaned.

“What are you?” George asked.

“I don’t know,” Alexander whispered.

“Neither do I.” He supposed it didn’t matter. George bit down the junction between neck and shoulder, forcing a shout out of Alexander. He lifted his head. “Shhhh,” he said. “We can’t have people hearing us, now can we?”

Alexander chuckled, a grin on his face. “Too late.”

George’s hands went to the fastenings of Alexander’s breeches and reached his hand down to wrap around the boy’s cock. He flicked his thumb over the leaking slit and captured Alexander’s lips in another bruising kiss, the boy groaning into his mouth and pushing forward into his hand.

“Not yet,” he said. “I have plans for you.” He let go of Alexander’s cock and took a small step back, smiling at Alexander’s resulting whine. “Turn over.” He needed to claim the boy, what had been a desire was becoming more and more a need with each second that passed.

Alexander listened, and soon he was looking over his shoulder at George. “Sir, I’m sure you know what you’re doing but I would very much,” the boy fluttered his lashes, a smirk playing at the corner of his swollen lips, “like to be fucked right now and not later.”

George swallowed, but rather than saying anything he reached forward and pressed Alexander’s face to the wood. “I hope you’re not expecting to be treating like a maiden on her wedding night.” Gentle touches could wait for a time when the urge wasn’t quite so animalistic.

“That-” Alexander licked his lips-“is the last thing I want, sir.”

He pulled Alexander’s breeches down and pushed up his shirt. “There’s oil in the drawer, you should be able to reach it.”

“Do you regularly make use of your soldiers like this?” Alexander asked, eyes challenging. The boy was cocky for his position, and it had George wanting to walk to the other side of the desk and shut the boy up the best way he knew how. Another time, perhaps.

“What’s it to you?” he asked.

“Well,” Alexander said. “If I’m yours now-”

“And you are.” George undid his own breeches and shoved them down.

“If I’m yours now,” Alexander continued. “I do hope we’ll be making use of it rather often.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how you’d feel tomorrow,” George bit out, impatience growing. “Get the oil.”

George ran a dry finger over Alexander’s entrance, and the boy gasped. Alexander gathered himself and said, “I’m more convinced by the minute that I won’t want anyone but you, sir.”

“Oil,” George repeated.

“You don’t need it,” Alexander pleaded. “Please just fuck me already.”

George closed his eyes, forcing the thought away. He could be better than that, he wouldn’t hurt the boy like that. Not today. “No,” he said. “Give me the oil.”

Alexander listened, and soon George was pressing an oil slick finger inside of Alexander, relishing in the low sounds pouring out of Alexander’s mouth.

“Sir, more, please.”

Alexander was hot and tight around his finger, and his patience for feeling Alexander squeeze around his cock was growing thin. He pressed another finger in, and Alexander let out a beautiful sound and said, “sir, more, I’m ready-”

“No,” George interrupted, scissoring his fingers. Still so tight.

“Please,” Alexander begged. “Sir, I want you, only you.” He whined, eyes shining bright as he looked over his shoulder at George.

A wave of magic hit him - lulling, seductive, manipulative - and George growled, narrowing his eyes as he pulled his fingers out of Alexander. He poured oil over his cock and grabbed Alexander’s hips, squeezing tight before thrusting forward.

It wasn’t enough preparation - it was tight and it was perfect and George pressed his forehead to Alexander’s back and breathed in, the delicious scent filling his nose. A sense of rightness flowed through him, magic entwining and warmth flowing through his limbs. Alexander was _his_.

“Move, sir, please,” Alexander said, voice a whisper beneath him, need evident.

George’s control was slipping, everything inside of him urging him to listen to the boy and _move_ , rip more delicious sounds out of Alexander’s throat. Sounds that only he would hear, sounds that would be _his_.

He squeezed Alexander’s hips tighter, hard enough to bruise. He hoped they bruised. The picture of Alexander going about his duties with George’s marks laying claim was one George had every intention of making reality.

“Please,” Alexander begged, voice a whisper.

George gave in. It was a rhythmic movement - slap of skin on skin, the squeaking of the desk, Alexander’s moans and his grunts. Alexander was better than anyone else, the best, and now he belonged to George.

His thrusts sped up, Alexander pushing back into them as much as he was able to in his position. George knew there was no way anyone could mistake the sounds of what they were doing as anything else, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Alexander let out a sharp noise, and he tightened around George’s cock with his release. George quickened his thrusts until he bit into Alexander’s shoulder to muffle his own groan.

The only sounds were their heavy breathing, and George pulled back, softening cock slipping out of Alexander. There was something that was settled in his chest now, a sort of confidence he hadn’t known he had been lacking. He pressed a kiss to Alexander’s shoulder and asked, “how do you feel?”

Alexander looked at George over his shoulder, a wry smile on his face, and said, “never been better.”

“You’re mine now,” George whispered, the thought of anything else being true painful to consider.

Alexander sat up that George was standing between his spread legs and nodded, arms going around George’s shoulders. “And you’re mine.”

George captures Alexander’s lips in a kiss. “I suppose I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to come pester me at my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com)! :^))
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3


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